


Wigbold

by Bitterblue



Category: Monster Blood Tattoo Series - D. M. Cornish, Orphan Black (TV)
Genre: F/F, Orphan Black AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-24
Updated: 2014-06-24
Packaged: 2018-02-06 01:41:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1839697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bitterblue/pseuds/Bitterblue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cosima the wit and Delphine the Baroness, at a party hosted by the Duke of Brandenbrass, because it seemed like a good idea at the time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wigbold

The sounds of the party faded the further into the warren of a building she walked. The whole city was a warren, rabbits' nests fashioned out of brick and stone, but no part quite as much so as the Duke of Brandenbrass's palace. Cosima loathed these affairs, all sheer clothing and translucent hatred polished up to gleam like affection in the lamplight and between sips of probably unpoisoned wine, but at least they afforded the opportunity to slip away for a moment of quiet, usually. Her mistress, pariah as she was, did not typically require protecting or careful watching--and even if she  _had_ , well, the Branden Rose could take care of herself. And so Cosima was allowed, even encouraged, to slide into the shadows and take respite.

She found herself at the edge of a courtyard, a little patch of grass and fountain and a bench. To her displeasure, the bench was occupied. A tall woman, her gold hair pinned back in a complex knot, sat with her back turned, staring at the fountain. She turned, standing, quite suddenly, and Cosima took a step back.

"Sorry to disturb you, miss." She offered her hands, empty, as proof of her good intent.

The woman was beautiful, her eyes as gold as her hair and her mouth pulled into a tight, small frown. "No," she said, "You haven't disturbed me. It is alright. But I should go--" Her accent was not local, something more southern. Cosima found herself smiling, still all apology.

"You're the Baron of Fointaine's new wife, yes? From Ives." The woman, the Baroness, nodded, still frowning. "I heard your name spoken earlier, mistress. You've travelled a long way, you both, to come to Branden town for our Duke's birthday."

She seemed to hesitate, and then she sat, silk and organza dress billowing out in an unfelt breeze. She was very pretty. It was very much a problem to think her pretty. "I don't wish to go back inside. They will have been talking of me all night. I can't stand it." Cosima smiled again.

"My mistress won't miss me--she practically sent me away so I would stop moping for fresh air at her side. I would stay, if you wished." The Baroness smiled, too, as small and tight as her frown, but it made her eyes sparkle and it made the blood thunder in Cosima's veins. She dipped a bow, bright red proofing setting off the red she felt in her cheeks. "My name is Cosima, lady, factotum and chemist to the Branden Rose." She sat down on the bench, hands carefully placed in her lap.

"I heard, before I left, that the Branden Rose was keeping a wit for a factotum. And you seem to be neither wit nor the sort who would willingly keep the company of mad teratologists. Delphine, Baroness of Fointaine, lately of Ives. Who are you really?"

Cosima laughed. "I promise, mistress, I am hers. Why would you disbelieve, or trust such cruel rumours?"

Delphine touched her fingers to the long, tight-knit ropes of Cosima's hair. "Your choice here is most unusual, I will admit."

"I saw it in Sinster, with my mistress, and grew fond of the style." Careful fingers threaded their way between strands, overly familiar and overly bold. Tugged. The wig shifted, and then slid to the bench.

"A wigbold." This, not a question. Delphine's face was speculative, cautious but interested. Cosima found herself still smiling. Wigbold was not the only sort of bold this woman made her feel.

"A secret, lady. From one disliked foreigner to another."

She understood why Delphine had not smiled before; her true smile lit the room like a small sun and sent Cosima hurtling towards her with its gravity. "I always wanted to be a wit, myself. No. Your secrets are safe here." She carefully set the wig to rights on Cosima's head. "I would like to meet your mistress. I think we shall be good friends."


End file.
